


bright blue sky // sun in my eyes

by twoheadlights (fizzfic)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: (you're welcome), Christmas Fluff, M/M, Merry Christmas!, There's a little swearing, Writer!Phil, anyway, artist!dan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 05:11:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5484788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fizzfic/pseuds/twoheadlights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s <i>cold</i>,” Phil complains, tightening his grip on his arm. “You’re so warm all the time, even on the snowiest day ever.”</p><p>“It’s because I’m filled with sunshine.” He smirks and Phil shoves him playfully. He completely agrees though. For all his edges and walls that Dan puts up for the entire world, once he lets you in, he’s all the bright colours in his palette. </p><p>(artist!(and composer)dan and writer!phil are each other's muses and it's christmas time although that's a minor detail)</p>
            </blockquote>





	bright blue sky // sun in my eyes

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is mostly for [kristo](http://twitter.com/tokyohoweii) who always talks about artist!dan and i couldn't take it anymore. consider it a christmas present? (thank u for indulging me friendo)
> 
> as always, hope you like this! you can reblog the fic on [tumblr](http://phanwich.tumblr.com/post/135645572475/bright-blue-sky-sun-in-my-eyes) as always c:
> 
> HAPPY HOLIDAAAAYSSSS<33333
> 
> title from [be my forever](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=awMQlSqI564) by christina perri ft. ed sheeran

_once upon a time, i was in love with a boy who was in love with flying_. _we soared above land and water, searching for something – i’m not sure what and it didn't seem like he knew either but i still went with him. always._

 

-

 

Their flat is shitty, no doubt about it. It’s a bit of a cliche, really — two kids with big dreams meet, bright-eyed, immediately drawn to each other like moths to light (Dan would’ve scoffed at the analogy, especially coming from Phil, who considers himself to be quite above average at them). But they’ve made it a home together. Every single piece of it, every nook and cranny, something they’ve added to make their own.

 

There’s paint splatters on _all_ the walls, the trash can next to Phil’s desk is almost always full to the brim with paper balls by the end of the day, Dan’s shirts somehow always end up in a heap at the foot of their bed, and if it wasn’t for his compulsive tendencies, the whole place would be even more wrecked than it was.

 

“Mhm, five more minutes.” Phil mumbles, tightening his grip around Dan’s waist. The boy in his arms chuckles, making the bed vibrate slightly.

 

“I’ll lose my job if I’m late.”

 

“You’re _never_ late.”

 

“ _You’re_ never this difficult.”

 

Phil lets go of him, and pouts as Dan rolls away from him and sits up. “Fine. Go, leave me here to die.”

 

Dan smiles at him sleepily and leans back to kiss him on the nose. “You’ll survive. Always do. Isn’t your article deadline today?”

 

Phil nods. “I’m really excited about it. It’s about boyfriends who can’t commit to their relationships as much as their jobs.” He’s joking, and Dan knows because he sticks his tongue out at Phil before walking to the bathroom to properly wake up. Phil yawns, stretches and looks around their room.

 

The sunlight washes over the space, and he notices Dan's canvas, blank and ready for a new piece. Phil smiles, his heart almost about to burst out of love and pride he feels for him because it's supposed to be the painting to go up in Undiscovered Gems section of _Face A Face._

 

-

 

It's nearing Christmas so the kids in the school choir have to prepare for a recital. Dan sits at his grand piano (well. It's not really his, it's the school's but he calls her Valentina and polishes her every once in a while), smiling as he plays _Silent Night_ and the children harmonise.

 

“Ryan, try hitting that last note a bit higher,” Louise instructs. She's kind with a hint of sass that could never ever be mistaken for rudeness because her eyes twinkled. She reminded Dan of Phil in a lot of ways, which confirmed his theory that when it comes to the company he keeps, he definitely has a type.

 

After practice – which happens just before break – Dan likes to sit and play a few pieces on his own, which the children sometimes like to listen to.

 

“Play the one you did when you had your friend come over!” A little Eugene asks earnestly. Phil had visited the school as part of a creative program for young writers to read one of his stories and everyone _loved_ him. Of course they did, Dan thought. Who couldn't love Phil, with his bright smile and his colours of yellow and red and brown and _blue_ , making one feel immediately warm at the sight of him.

 

The other kids join in and insist Dan play the ‘song about your friend’ (it _was_ about Phil), and he laughs. “Alright, alright.” He says, and cracks his knuckles before placing his fingers on the keys.

 

He called the piece _flip_ because that's what the Starbucks barista had written Phil's name as on their first date and the piece was about how his heart flipped the first time Phil kissed him and his entire life flipped around when they moved in together. Not cheesy at all.

 

So he starts playing. It starts soft – life before Phil, when everything was planned, big hopes he wished for quietly, not brave enough to pursue them –  and then with his other hand, he plays a happier melody, that's Phil with his eyes and smile and his stories of people falling in love and families coming together and the hungry cat finally finding a home. His fingers glide along the piano until he's brought the two sounds together, coexisting in harmony, in sync and sounding lovely together. The first time he played it for him, Phil nearly cried. He then said that he'd written something for Dan too.

 

And just like that, Dan and Phil became each other's muse.

 

-

 

“ _my my, what a big heart you have.” “all the better to love you with, my dear_.”

 

-

 

Manchester usually doesn't get snow, but this time, Phil thinks, they got lucky. He and Dan had planned to meet at the coffee shop (not Starbucks – gone were the days they could afford the overpriced coffee they had on their first date) near the flat to discuss holiday plans. Usually, they'd go home to their parents but after...a certain incident – namely, Dan dropping out of university – they felt like he wouldn't get the warmest welcome back.

 

He enters the shop and shakes his head to get the bits of snow caught in his hair. He runs a hand through it as his vision zooms right to the corner where he and Dan always sit. He sees his boyfriend’s gray fluffy hat and smiles. Assuming Dan has ordered their usual, he walks straight to the table, noticing that Dan's doodling something on a napkin.

 

“Your next masterpiece?” He asks, coming to a stop across from Dan.

 

He looks up, a little dazed. “Oh, hey.” He says. “Yeah, look.” He holds up the napkin for Phil to see. It's a rough thing, but he can make out what is definitely a small dog and a smaller cat being engulfed by it.

 

“Oh my gosh, is that…?” His eyes widen, recognising the scene.

 

Dan nods. “They're from your story. I visualised Spaniel the cat as a tabby. Accurate?”

 

Phil laughs and says, “Sure, yeah.” The story was based off the night Dan stayed with Phil after dropping out. He'd argued with his parents for the ‘ump-fucking-teenth time’ about dropping out and being an artist and it was the last straw.

 

Long story short, Dan left his family home in Reading without looking back and ended up back in Manchester in Phil's arms. That night, they watched the first Star Wars movie (Dan's choice) and ate cereal (Phil's choice).

 

In Phil's story, Spaniel the cat gets kicked out of the house for being ‘too much to take care of’ and while wandering the streets, he stumbles across a large dog named Harold too happy for his own good, who saves him from another street cat about to attack him. The two become close friends and Harold even takes Spaniel to his owner’s house so they can live together as best friends forever. Essentially, it's a children's story and so Phil couldn't write about all the _other_ things he and Dan did after he moved in. The idea was clear though. There's a lot of love between them, regardless of what kind of love that might be.  

 

As they sip their hot drinks, Phil says slowly, “I notice there's a new canvas waiting back home.”

 

Dan grins before answering in a sly tone, “Oh yeah. That’s there. About that…”

 

“Tell me _everything_.”

 

“Would you model for it?” Dan’s cheeks flush pink at the question, and Phil opens his mouth and closes it, not knowing how to respond at first.

 

“Me? Really?”

 

“ _Yes_. There’s nothing else I would like more.” Dan smiles warmly at him, like he’s the most beautiful thing he’d ever set his eyes on and Phil feels a familiar flutter in his tummy.

 

“Okay.” He smiles. “This will be good.”

 

-

 

Christmas in Manchester always makes Phil feel warm inside. The city gets dressed up lights and tinsel, there’s mistletoe and holly on the doors of shops, families laughing and bickering over presents and couples like him and Dan holding hands, kissing and being in love. It had been snowing when they were inside but now the streets have a thin layer of a snowy blanket which Dan says makes Phil look translucent. He cuddles up closer to Dan on the walk home, unsteadying them both a little.

 

“Phil, you’re going to make us fall,” Dan tells him, but he’s laughing.

 

“It’s _cold_ ,” Phil complains, tightening his grip on his arm. “You’re so warm all the time, even on the snowiest day ever.”

 

“It’s because I’m filled with sunshine.” He smirks and Phil shoves him playfully. He completely agrees though. For all his edges and walls that Dan puts up for the entire world, once he lets you in, he’s all the bright colours in his palette.

 

It hits him at least once in awhile, but Phil’s really gone for Dan.

 

-

 

“So I just...sit?” Phil asks, squirming even though there’s nothing to be uncomfortable about.

 

Dan nods. “Yup. Try to be still, even though I know that’s hard for you.” He’s in an old shirt of Phil’s, splattered with dried paint, a paintbrush tucked behind his ear and the canvas in front of him. Phil’s sat at the edge of the bed.

 

Phil sticks a tongue out at him. “Fuck you, I can be still if I want.” He retorts and to prove it, he sits up and goes rigid. his eyes piercing into Dan.

 

Dan raises an eyebrow. “Probably the straightest you’ve ever been, eh, Philly?” He asks, grinning cheekily.

 

Phil has to bite the inside of his cheek to not react in any way. Dan nods at him, impressed that he didn’t. He looks down at his paint bottles and picks out a few, humming _Baby, It’s Cold Outside_ loudly. He smiles at Phil warmly, and Phil grins back.

 

“Stay like that.” Dan instructs suddenly, taking his brush and popping open a paint bottle.

 

-

 

Twenty minutes later and Phil’s starting to feel a bit stiff. “You’re using a lot of the same colour.” He notes. It’s true. Lots of shades of blue. Phil’s never seen so many - baby blue, navy blue, royal blue, turquoise, _blue_.

 

Dan doesn’t reply immediately. His tongue sticks out in concentration and his brow is furrowed and he’s currently using ‘cerulean’ apparently. “Yeah.” He says, stepping back and inspecting his work so far. “There’s a reason for that.”

 

“Of course.” Phil nods. He understands completely. As a writer, he’s used the ‘read between the lines’ technique a lot for his work. So he gets that Dan wants to do even though he hasn’t seen the painting. “Keep going.”

 

“I will.”

 

-

 

“What colour do you think I am?” Dan asks, not looking up from the canvas.

 

Phil’s not sitting at the edge of the bed anymore. Dan allowed him to sit back and lean on the headboard of the bed surrounded by a sea of pillows and cushions. “What?” He tilts his head to one side, confused.

 

“Colour. What colour do you think represents me best?”

 

Phil frowns, trying to think. He knows a lot of colours and he knows that colours represent feelings and objects and personalities. He’d done colour psychology at university and researched it. He ponders for a bit. Dan’s not a simple being. No human is, to be fair, but he’s especially complex to Phil. It took him a while to understand Dan, but when he did, it was like looking at an open book. Every single day, he learns something new and Dan has so many dimensions to him. Strangers would call him closed up, his family would call him reckless. The kids at the school he works in would call him funny, talented, and really, _really_ tall. Phil wouldn’t be able to pinpoint one thing about him.

 

Dan’s an artist, a complementary job to Phil’s, in both their opinions because they’re both creative in their own ways. He’s closed up because he’s the kind of person whose trust you have to earn. He’s not reckless, he just enjoys a good challenge. He thinks more than he dreams, even when his wish to be an artist professionally was just that - a dream. Dan’s a bit unstable in the sense that he’s fickle and changes his mind a lot. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but it has been the reason they argue most of the time. Dan isn’t a confident person - not in himself anyway. Sometimes - sometimes, he needs some kind words, encouragement in the form of touches and whispers in the dark. Dan is a cynic. He used to scoff at how much of a hopeless romantic Phil was when they first met. He’s softened a bit, because he himself is in love but he’ll still roll his eyes at sincere emotions shown to him if it’s too much for him to handle. Most of all, Dan is warm. He radiates light, inspiration to do more, _be_ more, rise from the ashes because that’s what he did.

 

Phil smiles at him. “Yellow.” He says confidently. “Like...sun yellow.”

 

Dan grins back at him, and the little bit sky blue on his dimple becomes more pronounced.

 

-

 

Phil doesn’t know when but he had fallen asleep and now he wakes up when the sun is rising. He looks at the clock on the bedside drawer, squinting through his sleep: 8:30AM. Alright then.

 

The space next to him is dipped and he turns over to see Dan’s back, rising and falling evenly. When did he come to bed?

 

The last thing Phil remembers is sitting still while Dan painted him for the gallery piece. _Oh_.

 

The canvas is still where it had been the night before. Should he…?

 

If Dan hadn’t wanted him to see, he would’ve covered it up. So Phil moves the blankets, covers Dan with them and gets off the bed. Stretching and yawning, he walks quietly to the canvas, making sure not to make the bed or the floorboards creak.

 

He’s not sure what to expect, although he knows it’s going to be beautiful. What he sees makes him gasp out loud.

 

It’s a portrait - a very accurate one - but it’s all in blue. Every single part of Phil is in a different shade. His hair is the darkest, and his face is mostly just blank except for where his cheeks are supposed to be, which looks like the azure blue. His eyes are cerulean, and his mouth is sky blue. Further down, his neck has patches of azure and baby blue. The portrait ends at his chest and towards the left, where his heart is supposed to be, is a large patch of pale blue. It’s obvious he’s laughing and Phil doesn’t know which moment from the previous night that could’ve been but it looks so much like him and he can’t believe this is how Dan sees him, so beautiful, so happy.

 

Dan makes Phil happy too.

 

He breathes in deeply, and smiles at Dan, still curled up in bed. He goes back to him, crawls right up behind him, throwing an arm around his waist and hooking his chin on Dan’s shoulder. He kisses his exposed neck, making Dan squirm in his sleep.

 

“I love you,” he whispers fondly.

 

“Mm?” Dan turns a bit, one eye somewhat open.

 

Phil just cuddles him harder, unbelievably in love and gone and wanting to stay like this forever. He loves Dan, can’t love him enough, he wants to be with him forever.

 

-

 

 _we make it to the sky and his grip on my hand tightens. he points to the sun at a distance. i say, ‘it’s you.’ and he laughs and my point is proven. we still haven’t reached our destination, still don’t know what it is, but i’ll follow him until the day i die_.

 

 


End file.
